


Vignettes

by bedestroyedthere



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:01:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24659539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bedestroyedthere/pseuds/bedestroyedthere
Summary: quiet, little moments in the daily life of a senior and his junior.
Relationships: Ohtori Choutarou/Shishido Ryou
Kudos: 6





	1. a rainy evening - the waiting shed

**Author's Note:**

> hi. i will be using this mulitchap to practice writing scenes again before i can double down on some pretty large fics i've been working on. i keep getting writer's block and i suspect that's because i'm really rusty, so this will be a way for me to keep things moving and hopefully help me jumpstart my ability to build entire narratives again. 
> 
> i've only recently gone back to the tenipuri fandom (thanks to the recent myus), and i thought making something would help tide me over while i try to work on how overwhelming it's been after nearly a decade of hiatus. 
> 
> i hope whoever reads this is keeping safe and healthy. feel free to leave me a message or a comment for critiques, insights, opinions, and possible prompts.

It’s a rainy evening.

The outdoor tennis courts glisten under the floodlights, wet but undisturbed in the weather. The rain has become steady and light after the torrent that assaulted the roof while they practiced indoors.

Shishido hikes his tennis bag up on his shoulder. He stuffs one hand into his pocket and readjusts his cap with the other, just as he hears the lights from the indoor court shut off. He walks to one end of the building, checking to see if anyone else is still around. Unsurprisingly, the courts are empty by 9:30pm on a weekday. 

“Shishido-san?”

He glances at the direction he came from. “Yeah, I’m here.” He walks back.

“What were you looking at, senpai?” Choutarou asks, eyes big and blinking with genuine curiosity, like he was asking a question he just can’t wait to hear the answer to.

Shishido shakes his head once. “Nah, it was nothing. Just checked if there were other people around. We’re the last ones here.”

Choutarou nods. “I see.”

They start walking.

“Aren’t you hungry, Shishido-san?”

“I’m good. I packed some extra food so I got to snack before we started.”

“But you haven’t had a full dinner yet.”

“I told my mom I’ll be eating when I get home. Don’t worry about me. Aren’t _you_ hungry?”

As if in response, Choutarou’s stomach grumbles. His shoulders rise to his ears, red from embarrassment. “Um... Maybe a little.”

Shishido laughs—a good, full one. It echoes in the empty street. As his chuckle resides, he rummages around his bag.

“Here,” he says and thrusts something at Choutarou.

“It’s an... Onigiri?”

“Yeah,” Shishido says. “Just bought an extra one from the convenience store in case I was still hungry after all the snacks.”

“But I— You must be hungry and—“

“Jeez, just take it!” The shorter man huffs and pushes the rice ball into his junior’s hand. He picks up his pace and walks a bit ahead.

A quiet murmur reaches Choutarou. “I actually bought that for you. Figured you might get hungry, too.”

The silver-haired boy flushes. “...thank you, Shishido-san.”

Shishido tugs at his cap. “I just meant—you’re a growing boy, okay? Don’t allow yourself to get hungry or else your stomach will eat your insides!”

They talk a bit more and tease and laugh as they arrive at the bus stop.

Water and the orange light of the street lamps give the road a concrete glow. Rain pitter-patters on the waiting shed.

Shishido sits on the rail as Choutarou leans against it. The small talk quiets down and all there is to hear is the sound of rain hitting asphalt and the roof above softly.

“Shishido-san.”

“Mm?”

“...nothing.”

Shishido glances at his doubles partner from his peripheral vision. He clicks his tongue, trying to communicate his annoyance without having to ask what Choutarou wants.

Silence—and the sound of rain.

Shishido lets the cold of the metal seep into his skin, still perched on the handrail. Choutarou’s side radiates warmth. He can feel it on his thigh, near where his junior’s back is leaning against the railing. 

The streetlight flickers. 

Then Choutarou tugs the brim of Shishido’s blue cap, pulls it from the back to the side, pulls him close, and gives him a kiss.

It’s barely a flutter of lips against his, but it’s warm and electric where they connect and hot where Choutarou’s hand is cradling his face, even as his other hand stays gripping the brim of the cap.

The streetlight flickers again.

Choutarou lets go, steps back, and goes back to casually leaning on the railing near Shishido.

He adjusts his cap and scratches the cheek where Choutarou’s hand was cradling his face. Shishido bites his lower lip, as if to make sure the feeling of Choutarou’s lips stays there for the rest of the night. Half in shadow, half in the streetlight, no one would be able to see how red he is. Thank God.

“Shishido-san—“

“You need to practice.”

Choutarou laughs—a good, full one. It echoes in the empty street.

The rain stops. The bus arrives.


	2. exam season - Shishido's house

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm trying to ride a writing high so i churned this out. kind of a weird shift in mindset to do a completely short and sweet fanfic given how insanely different (long and angry) the stuff i've been working on the past few days are, but anyway.

Shishido is drained.

With exams coming up, he’s less exhausted in the physical way and more in the mental way. He still maintains his daily runs and jumps at the very least, but with off-season and adults pressuring him to make up for his grades from the peak of training and tournaments, there’s less emphasis on tennis right now and more on being an actual student. 

Of course, the off-season doesn’t mean slacking off. He hits the courts as much as he can with the time left after studying, cram school, and housework. But with his schedule as is, Shishido has been struggling to even meet up with Choutarou these days, especially since Choutarou has violin and piano rehearsals, too.

During regular, non-exam weeks, Shishido and Choutarou usually see each other daily. That’s why, after four days of not being able to meet, it’s only normal that Shishido is feeling a little off. Or that’s what he’s been telling himself all day anyway.

“Four days? That’s not _that_ long, is it?” Shishido’s mother comments when he says so after she asks why he’s been opening and closing the fridge every twenty minutes for the past two hours.

“Mom, you couldn’t sleep at all when aniki was on a week-long trip.”

“But that’s your _brother._ ” 

“He’s been in college for two years!” Shishido slumps against the fridge door.

His mother pushes him to the side to rummage through the contents of the fridge, before turning to hand him a pint of mint chocolate ice cream. He looks at her, brows furrowed, pint of ice cream raised in a way that can only be described as questioning. 

She smiles and pinches his cheek. “Just a little something to eat while you’re studying. You’ve been working hard, Ryou.” 

She gives him one last pat on the cheek before turning around to leave. “Make sure you get some rest soon, okay? It’s getting late.”

Shishido stares at the spot where his mother’s back just was. His phone buzzes him out of his reverie, and he gets a spoon and goes back up to his room.

* * *

In all honesty, the reason Shishido’s been extra anxious today might be because Choutarou said he had something to give him tonight.

At least, that’s what the text he got four hours ago said. It’s almost 11:30 pm, however, and Choutarou still hasn’t come by.

He shuts his textbook and shovels a heaping spoonful of ice cream into his mouth before bringing up his messages with his junior.

**Ootori Choutarou** [19:46]  
Senpai, I’ll pass by your house later. I have something for you!（＾◇＾）

Shishido scrunches up his face and sighs. He decides to send a text.

**Shishido Ryou** [23:25]  
r u still gonna drop by  
its getting pretty late

His phone had just landed on his bed—where he threw it after feeling embarrassed for the text—when it buzzes with a reply.

**Ootori Choutarou** [23:26]  
Of course I am.

Shishido replies simply with a “ _cool just checking”_ —even though in reality he’s feeling anything but.

**Ootori Choutarou** [23:27]  
Sorry I’m taking a while. I had to do some errands for my dad. I’ll be there soon!

The text stays on the screen until the phone auto-locks. Shishido sighs, tipping his head as far back as his computer chair allows him. He swivels his seat for a bit, thinking of a reply that would let Choutarou know he’ll be waiting without sounding too eager, when his phone buzzes again, twice in succession.

**Ootori Choutarou** [23:30]  
It’s been a really long day.  
I want to see you.

Shishido stares at the texts. The phone auto-locks. He unlocks it and stares at the texts some more. 

He doesn’t get to reply, but when he hears “ _Shishido-san!_ ” a few minutes later from outside his window, he knows the wait is worth it.


	3. when Shishido was removed as a regular - the tennis courts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it took a while to get back to writing fanfiction. it’s been difficult lately especially with my time fully being consumed by academic reading. anyway. i’m probably writing a non-chronological account of how Shishido and Choutarou got together.

They have been training together for over a week since Shishido swallowed the shards of his pride and asked for Choutarou’s help in getting back his spot as a regular, but it still hasn’t been easy for Choutarou.

He knows how insensitive it sounds, being in pain over this, when he’s not on the receiving end of the Scud Serve, but Choutarou doesn’t like inflicting any sort of pain on others, especially on a teammate who’s already been through so much.

“Are... Are you sure you don’t want a break yet, senpai?” He asks, palming the tennis ball in his pocket nervously as he stands on the corner of the court.

“No.” Shishido wipes his sweat with his shirt and stands his ground. “Make sure you aim it directly at me, alright? I think I’m gonna get it soon.”

The taller boy nods and finds his resolve in the figure standing on the other side of the net. Even with the distance between them, Choutarou has been familiar enough with how Shishido looks to see how he’s standing just a little more hunched than necessary, possibly feeling the brunt of the days of nonstop training. He knows his senpai has new cuts and bruises again tonight. It’s all he can do to keep giving the serves expected of him to make sure all this pain isn’t in vain.

Choutarou pulls out a ball from his pocket and assumes his position.

“Ikkyu... Nyu... Kon!”

Shishido moves to catch it, but is a couple of milliseconds late and gets hit just below his shoulder again. He staggers back from the force of the impact, almost tips backwards, but regains his footing with a grimace.

Choutarou’s chest tightens as he sees that expression. “Shishido-san, I really think a break is—“

“Again! I was so close, give me another!” His upperclassman says loudly as he goes right back to his position. 

Even just _looking_ at Shishido is starting to hurt, but at the same time Choutarou just can’t seem to tear his eyes off the senior wincing on the other end of the court. The floodlights above and behind the shorter man engulfs him in its white light, and he may be black and blue but the look of quiet rage and determination on his face makes him look ferocious and wild, ethereal and yet so definitely of this earth. Choutarou has to shield his eyes for a second and he’s not sure if it’s the brightness of the lights above or the fire in Shishido’s eyes that threatens to consume him.

“Alright, another,” he says in a quiet voice that still carries. “But after this one, please, please, let’s take a break.”

Choutarou knows Shishido would call begging lame, but he’s not sure he can hit another serve at his senior without gathering his wits first.

Shishido nods, clearly not pleased with the idea of pausing. If he doesn’t have any self-preservation skills tonight, Choutarou will be them for him.

He takes a deep breath and prepares to launch his serve.

“Ikkyu... Nyu... Kon!”

The satisfying thwack of the ball against the racket resounds in the court. Almost too quick to even distinguish, Shishido reaches his hand out and the ball grazes his palm before he is overcome by the power of the ball. He staggers backwards again and the ball bounces on the court with nothing more than a little shift in direction.

It looks like it hurts so much more than the previous serves and Choutarou is paralyzed and holding his breath, waiting to see how his senior responds.

Shishido’s eyebrows shoot up and his eyes immediately meet Choutarou’s.

“Hey, Choutarou, did you see that?!” He runs to the net with his hand outstretched. “It just grazed my palm—your serve—but I caught it for a bit!”

Choutarou breathes out, the air rushing out heavily, as if trying to escape him all at once. Shishido looks so overjoyed with that one small (but unmistakably strong and painful, if the steadily reddening marks on the palm mean anything) point of contact, and the silver-haired boy feels himself drop his racket and launch forward, running towards the net.

“It hurts and I still wasn’t prepared for the actual power of it on my palm, but I was so close to—“

Shishido doesn’t get to finish his sentence as Choutarou reaches over the net, pulls him forward roughly, and covers his mouth with his own. The older boy is bruised and scarred and bleeding in some areas, but the pain has been overwritten by the joy of almost catching a near-200 kilometers-per-hour serve, and _that_ joy is being overwritten by the warmth of chapped lips on his and the heat radiating off of Choutarou’s body even in the spaces where they don’t touch.

Suddenly coming to, Choutarou lets go of the parts of Shishido’s shirt he has in his fists, his expression flitting between shock and shame. 

The shorter boy is just as surprised one second, and then completely understanding and sure the next—though sure of what, he can’t explain just yet. There’s time to find the right words, to sit and think and talk, to negotiate and discuss and debate, but he knows that that time isn’t now. 

His junior’s mouth begins to form words of apology. “Shishido-san, I am so—“

Shishido pulls him forward and down as he raises himself a little to meet Choutarou in the middle for another kiss. Nothing else aside from the two of them exists beyond the ground they are standing on and the net between them, and everything is on fire, and something is fluttering inside him, and the parts of Choutarou’s shirt in his fists are his only anchor in this moment. 

This is the only thing that’s _right_ right now, he thinks to himself before their lips meet again.


End file.
